


Lover's Desire

by radiofedora



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, I will ship Jacob/Queenie until the day I die, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-02 10:01:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8663080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiofedora/pseuds/radiofedora
Summary: Jacob Kowalski is a man of many desires, few of which he actually gets. Queenie Goldstein knows things, but knowing her own heart is sometimes difficult.(Canon-compliant, sort-of-drabbly)





	1. Lover's Desire

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me while I was in the shower, and I had to get it down on paper. 
> 
> I JUST HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT JACOB AND QUEENIE, OKAY?

He doesn’t need much, in all honesty.

He has his life, which is more than a lot of his fellow soldiers can say. He has a roof over his head. He has a job, unappealing and unfulfilling as it is, and enough to eat.

He doesn’t need much.

It doesn’t stop him from wanting.

\-----------------------

He wants to open his bakery.

He wants to be able to honor his grandmother’s memory. She taught him everything he knows about baking, after all -- what kind of flour to use to get the lightest, most tender crusts; how long to bake the baklava so the crunch settles just right; the perfect ratio of sugar to honey to balance out the tartness of blackberries. He wants to share what she taught him. He wants to share her love with the world.

He wants out of the cannery, too. It’s killing him by degrees. He’s wilting, there; he can endure it, if he has to, but he’s wilting as if he’s a houseplant in the midst of the desert. There’s no life, no joy, and he wants to find somewhere he can thrive.

He knows he doesn’t have much to offer the bank, but maybe, if he gets lucky, someone will see his potential, and show him some kindness. Maybe, for once, he’ll get what he wants.

\------------------------

He wants to forget.

He feels like he’s in some kind of a nightmare. He’s been bitten by something like a sea-anemone with legs and too many teeth. He’s been accused of robbery, blinked across the bank like -- like magic, and now he’s got a concussion from half his apartment being blown up by whatever was in that case. He wants to have never met that fellow from England. Whatever is going on, it’s his fault, with his egg and his suitcase and his far-too-calm reaction to this.

Yet here Mister Suitcase comes, into his apartment, with some tall, no-nonsense woman, and again, he’s being dragged through the city with no choice of his own. They’re arguing about something, but he’s too out of it and dazed from the bite, and he thinks he might have a fever. It’s hard to concentrate on what they’re saying.

Forget forgetting. Right now, he wants a drink.

\------------------------

He wants her.

It was embarrassing, walking in on a lady half-dressed like that; it wasn’t seemly. She hadn’t seemed to mind, though. She takes everything in stride, processing Mister Suitcase and himself like it was nothing, offering to feed them and put them up for the night. She can read his mind, too, but after all of the other strangeness, that doesn’t seem too out of place. She knows what he’s thinking, what he wants.

He wants her. Her body, yes, for what sane man wouldn’t? She’s a Mucha painting come to life, big eyes and smooth skin and sunshine curls and a smile that could light up all of New York, but there’s a kindness there, too, and a playful cheerfulness that leaves him breathless (although that could still be the bite talking). He wants her, but he wants all of her; he wants to know her desires and her thoughts, he wants to know how she takes her coffee and her favorite book, he wants to feel her body under his and he wants to hold her hand as they walk through the snow in Central Park.

He’s fascinated as he watches a strudel put itself together in midair, but it’s her he’s watching, not the pastry. She smiles at him, and while he wants her, he thinks, for a wild moment, that she may just want him, too.

\--------------------------

He wants to help.

There’s some -- _creature, monster_ \-- something tearing up the city, and Newt and Tina have already gone after it. She’s about to leave, too, leave him here helpless with a caseful of beasts -- _Niffler, Erumpent, Bowtruckle, Occamy_ \-- and he know he’s powerless, he has no magic -- _obliviate the No-Maj_ \-- but he wants to help, useless as he is.

It’s too dangerous, she says.

He knows it is, and he doesn’t want to let her go, either. He wants her to stay with him. He wants to protect her, even though he can’t. He wants to help his friends, but more than anything, he wants to keep her safe.

\-------------------------

He wants to remember.

He knows why he can’t. Rationally, he understands. His brain gets it. His heart doesn’t.

It’s raining; Frank conjured up some huge storm, and it’ll make the normal people forget. It’ll make him forget, if he steps into it.

He doesn’t want to forget. He likes magic; it’s fascinating, knowing that there’s a whole nother world just below the surface of the one he walks in. He wants to remember that. He wants to remember the beasts. The slender, serpentine Occamies; Dougal the Demiguise, clinging to him like a child; the Niffler, ridiculous and kleptomaniacal; and all the others, too many to name. He wants to learn more about them, wants to befriend them.

Friends. He wants to remember his friends. Tina, serious and responsible and brave. Newt, quiet, shy, but unmistakably kind; it takes a rare soul to look after all of those creatures, and Newt’s been a good friend in the short time they’ve known each other.

He wants to remember her.

She’s begging him not to go; they can run away together, go anywhere, do anything.

She deserves better than him. He’s not enough. He’s not magical, he’s nothing special. There are a million guys like him.

No, she says. There’s only one like you.

He wants to stay. He wants to remember.

He smiles, and steps into the rain.

\------------------------

He wants, but he doesn’t know what.

He should be satisfied. He has his bakery, now, thanks to the mystery case -- and boy, will he ever be wondering who gave him _that_ thing, full of silver eggshells; he has a new home, a new career, a new life.

He still wants.

The bakery’s been open for a couple of months now, and it’s quickly become one of the most popular places in the district. He’s been featured in the Times. Everyone loves his pastries and cakes and goodies, but what draws people are the desserts he bakes in fanciful shapes. Creatures that appear to him in his dreams -- _Niffler, Erumpent, Bowtruckle, Occamy_ \-- he turns into sweets. He wants to share them with the world.

It’s almost closing time. The bakery is still fairly full, people wandering through, picking out their purchases. He’s restocking the counter display case. He’s putting away some eclairs when he pauses, looks up to see a flash of pink coat.

She’s beautiful, the woman standing there. She’s a Mucha painting come to life, big eyes and smooth skin and sunshine curls and a smile that could light up all of New York, a smile that’s aimed at him. It’s a shy smile, but full of kindness and hope.

He wants her. He doesn’t know why, he’s never seen her before (though there’s something tugging at him, in the back of his thoughts, in a world of endless landscapes and impossible creatures), she’s too beautiful and kind for the likes of him, but he wants her.

She orders an apple strudel.

She smiles at him, that same breathtaking, hopeful smile, and while he wants her, he thinks, for a wild moment, that she may just want him, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I saw Fantastic Beasts last night, and it was pretty awesome. A few plot holes and some things that I didn't necessarily agree with, but overall, I really liked it. The relationship between Queenie and Jacob was amazing, and I think both of those characters were so well done. Like I said at the beginning, I have a lot of feelings about those two.
> 
> Also, MACUSA, what the fuck, guys? *side-eyes the murder room*
> 
> If you want to talk Fantastic Beasts, send me a message or leave a comment so we can chat! <3


	2. Known and Unseen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do one for Queenie, too. I REGRET NOTHING.

She knows things.

She’s always known things, more than she should be able to. As a child, she knows where her mother hides Christmas presents, knows when her sister has gotten into a tussle with other students; she knows when her parents are too sick to get out of bed and even though she calls for a healer, she knows it will be too late to save them. 

When she gets older, she knows what boys (and men, too, some of them old enough to be her father) think about her. She knows what they want to do to her, the names they call her in the secrecy of their own minds. She knows she’s beautiful, and she knows what others think of her because of it -- women are jealous, men possessive, but they all share the same derision. She may be beautiful, but they all think her flighty and bubble-headed. 

She knows what they think of her, and she uses it as both armor and sword. She hides behind pink chiffon and pretty smiles and sweet words. Let them think her ditzy and naive. Let them underestimate her. She smiles while she quietly catalogs office affairs and payroll scandals and deep, dark secrets. She hopes she never needs her arsenal, but she knows that in this world, it is better to be armed. 

\--------------------------------------

She knows this will be trouble. 

She knows, as soon as she sees who her sister has brought home, that things will be infinitely more complicated than they already are. She knows why her sister brought these two men to their apartment, but she wishes she hadn’t. 

The wizard is one problem, with his missing critters, but that’s her sister’s lookout. No, it’s the other one she’s worried about, because she can see how he’s looking at her. She knows what he’s been through today, the loan and his girl leaving and now getting wrapped up in all of this, because those thoughts are loud and insistent, but she knows what else he’s got going through his head. She knows that he wants her -- every man wants her, it feels like -- but he’s barely thinking about her body. He’s thinking about romance and kindness and walks under the moon. He’s thinking about things a girl like her doesn’t get. 

So she flirts and smiles and tries to find some reason not to like this man, because he’s a No-Maj, first of all, and because she needs a weapon against him, just in case. He doesn’t give her one. There’s not a malicious thought in his head. Instead, he gives her smiles and compliments and for the first time in years, she’s been completely disarmed. 

\--------------------------------------

She knows they’re in danger.

She knows her sister’s scared. She can hear her crying, as if they were standing side by side. She knows they don’t have much time, but what can she do? She’s not a fighter, like her sister. Her only weapons are pink chiffon and pretty smiles and sweet words. 

She sees Sam hauling him across the main halls to be Obliviated.

No, she thinks. There are other weapons. 

She knows about Sam’s affair, about Abernathy’s tough guy machismo. She uses them as her armor and sword. They underestimate her, they always do, they always have. She lets them think her ditzy and naive, and she uses it to save her sister, save Newt, save him.

\--------------------------------------

She knows she shouldn’t feel this way. 

She knows they’re not out of the woods, far from it. She knows there’s still creatures to find, plus that matter of their being hunted for capital crimes. She knows that being in the Blind Pig itself is dangerous, not just because of Gnarlack, but the others who frequent the speakeasy. 

Right now, she doesn’t care. 

In this moment, she wants to curse her abilities. She usually sees her talent as equal parts bane and boon, but in this moment, she doesn’t want to read minds. She wants to get to know him the old-fashioned way, over coffee and dinner and on trains and beneath sheets. She knows so much about him already, but she craves more. 

He’s not traditionally handsome, maybe, but he’s funny and kind and creative and he’s so enthralled with her world; there’s a wonder and sweetness to him that makes it hard for her to breathe. She’s trying not to read his thoughts, but what she picks up sets her nerves alight with need -- a need to touch, to understand, to know.

Are all No-Majs like you, she asks, but she already knows the answer. 

No, he says. I’m the only one like me.

She knows he’s right.

\--------------------------------------

She knows she has to let him go. 

She doesn’t want to. She’d give anything right now -- her looks, her Legilimency, her magic -- for him to stay, for him to stay and remember her. The thought of him forgetting, it’s breaking her heart.

She feels like a fool, begging him to stay. She shouldn’t feel like this. Where is her armor, her sword? Why can’t she defend herself against him? She’s been disarmed; she’s been stripped open and vulnerable and her heart is breaking, because there are things a girl like her doesn’t get, but she’d been damn close. 

His every thought is on her, and he’s scared and sad, and she knows he’s trying to do this for her. He’s trying to protect her, and she wants to say that she doesn’t want protecting, but the truth is, it’ll protect him, too.

He steps into the rain, and she follows. She’d give up everything for him, and he won’t let her, but at least she can give him one kiss. At least she can give him one hint of what could have been -- and give that to herself, too. 

\--------------------------------------

She knows she should just forget him. 

It’s been months, after all. Newt’s gone back to England. Tina’s been reinstated as an auror. The world has gone on, the wizarding world safe and hidden once more. Everything is as it should be. 

Except for her.

She can’t sleep at night. She’s pale and tired, and though she hides behind pink chiffon and pretty smiles and sweet words, everything seems hollow. She got a taste of something, like pastries with just the right amount of orange zest, and now she’s starving. 

She knows she should stay away, but every morning and night since it opened, her feet take her past the bakery. It’s enough just to glance through the window and see him. He’s thriving, in his element. The bakery’s the talk of the town, and for a while, it’s enough to know that he’s happy. 

Until it’s not.

She knows she shouldn’t go in. She’s setting herself up for more heartbreak, but she needs to see him, properly; she needs to hear his voice, if only for a moment. She knows he won’t remember her, but she needs to do this, to have some peace of mind. 

She’s only been in the shop for a few minutes, browsing through pastries that shouldn’t exist, fantastical shapes that he shouldn’t have any knowledge of. It’s enough to make her look towards the counter, just for a moment. 

He’s already looking at her. 

A smile starts to cross his face. In a whisper, beneath order forms and wedding cakes, she hears her name. It’s like a prayer, a promise. 

She knows so many things, things she never should have been able to. But as he crosses the floor to her, there’s only one thing in her mind.

She knows she’ll never let him go again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Queenie is such a complex character, and I really think there's more to her than she lets on. She's sweet, but there's steel under that soft exterior. I hope we get to see more of her in the next movie. 
> 
> Also, thank you all /so/ much for the kudos and comments. I don't consider myself much of a writer, so I'm kind of floored by all of the love. <3


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